I gaze at her, not saying a word, the hall emptying out all around us as everyone scrambles to leave. Everyone but us, that is.
But Honor just continues, taking no notice of the time or the fact that we should be getting out of here too. Her voice low and deep when she adds, “Too bad for her, it didn’t work. But still, what kind of friend does something like that?”
“Is that why you guys broke up?” I ask, not really caring either way. I already know the truth about Craig, about his true preferences, I’m just wondering if she knows it too.
“No, we broke up because he’s gay.” She shrugs. “And there’s really no future in that for me. But don’t tell anyone—” She looks at me, face panicked, eager to protect him and keep his secret, but I just wave it away. I have no interest in gossip like that. “Anyway, the thing is, while I’m truly sorry about being—complicit, or whatever it is that you called it, that’s all over now. I have no plans to get in your way, Ever. As long as you stay out of mine.”
I squint, wondering if that was some kind of thinly veiled threat. Just about to inform her that I have way bigger fish to fry, that refereeing her popularity showdown with Stacia is of absolutely no interest to me—when I see Haven.
Standing at the end of the hall, gaze entwining with mine until everything dims but the chill of her energy, the sharp stabbing pierce of her limitless hate, and the curl of her summoning finger.
And the next thing I know, I’m off. Honor’s voice reduced to a vague and distant hum as I chase after the train of Haven’s azure-blue gown. Floating, beckoning, as she disappears around a corner, and I race to keep up.
six
I stand before the door, eyes closed, taking a moment to engage in one of the fast and simple mini-meditations Ava taught me in order to empower myself. Imagining a radiant white light coursing through my body and seeping through all of my cells, as my fingers anxiously seek the amulet I wear at my neck. The collection of crystals meant to keep me from harm and guard all of my chakras, especially my fifth—the center for the lack of discernment and a misuse of information—my one major weakness that, if targeted, will doom me to the infinite abyss.
Stealing a second to tune in to Damen, to let him know there’s a good chance it’s started, while also reminding him of his promise to stay put unless I specifically call out for his help.
Then I take a deep breath and push my way in, moving across the ugly pink tiled floor, stopping just shy of the row of white sinks that jut out from the wall. My posture relaxed, arms loose by my sides, watching as Haven kicks open the door of every last stall, making sure we’re alone, before she turns, places her hands on her hips, cocks her head to the side, and shoots me an appraising look that does nothing to mar her newly enhanced face.
“And so begins senior year.” She smirks, the sapphire marking the space just above and between her brows, catching the fluorescent light and glinting at me as she smiles in a way that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “How are you finding it so far? Your teachers—your classes—is it everything you dreamed it would be?”
I shrug, refusing to give her anything more, refusing to get caught up in her game. This is the kind of useless word-play Roman loved to engage in, and if I didn’t play it with him, I certainly won’t indulge her.
She continues to study me, not the least bit daunted by my silence. If anything, it only encourages her. “Well, as for me, it’s turning out even better than planned. I’m sure you’ve already noticed how popular I am. In fact, I can’t decide whether to try out for cheerleader, run for class president, or both. What do you think?” She pauses, allowing plenty of time for me to weigh in, but when I don’t, she just shrugs and continues. “I mean, let’s face it, not to be all full of myself but there’s really no doubt I can do anything I want now. Surely you’ve noticed the way people look at me, the way they follow me around. It’s like—” Her eyes light up, her cheeks flush bright pink, and she wraps her arms around her middle, hugging herself in a burst of conceit. “It’s like I’m a rock star or something—they just can’t get enough of me!”
I sigh, loud enough for her to hear. Meeting her overconfident gaze with a look of complete and total boredom when I say, “Trust me, I’ve noticed.” Instantly wiping the triumphant smile from her face when I add, “Too bad it’s not real. I mean, you are aware of that, right? You’re making it happen. You’re deliberately luring them to you, robbing them of choice, of their own free will, just like Roman used to do. It’s not the real deal.”
She laughs, dismissing my words with a wave of her hand, walking in slow, deliberate circles, before she stops just before me and says, “Sounds like someone’s been snacking on the sour grapes.” She curls her lip and shakes her head. “Seriously. I mean, what’s your deal, Ever? Feeling a little jealous because I finally made it to table A while you’re still a big dork who’s permanently stuck in loserville?”
I roll my eyes, remembering my old life in Eugene, Oregon, back when I was a walking, talking, popular cliché. And even though I used to miss it, missed the seeming simplicity of it—the rules of conformity that seemed so easy to follow at the time—I wouldn’t go back to it for anything. It’s not even the slightest bit tempting these days.
“Hardly.” I gaze at her, my eyes narrowed. “Though I am surprised to see how much you’ve embraced it. I mean, considering how much you used to mock them and all. But I guess you only did that to hide the fact that you secretly wanted to be one of them. You pretended not to care when they snubbed you, when, apparently, you really did.” I shake my head, shooting her a look of pity, which, if the look in her eyes is any indication, has only enraged her even more. “But I doubt that’s why you summoned me here,” I add, eager to get back on point. “So why don’t you just go ahead and spill it? What is it that you’re just dying to tell me that can’t wait or can’t take place somewhere other than this gawd-awful bathroom?”
I gaze at her patiently, waiting for her to begin, while silently repeating the promises I made to myself:
I will not start the fight.
I will not take the first swing, throw the first punch, or anything of the sort.
I will exhaust all other possibilities before it even has a chance to come to that.
I will not end her life unless my life or another’s is threatened.
I will leave it to her to make the first move.
But when she does, well, from that point on,
I’m no longer responsible for what happens to her…
She rolls her eyes and heaves an exasperated sigh, looking at me as though the view pains her when she says, “Oh, and now you’re worried about getting caught loitering in the bathroom on your first day of school?” She clucks her tongue against the inside of her cheek as she lifts her hand to admire the stack of silver and blue rings she wears on each finger. “Why you insist on trying to act so normal—so ridiculously ordinary—is beyond me. I mean, seriously, you truly are the sorriest excuse for an immortal I’ve ever seen. Roman was right—both you and Damen are a complete waste of space.” She exhales, forcing a gust of air from her lungs that sends a bitter chill through the room. “It’s like, what could you possibly expect to get out of that? A gold star—a nicely framed certificate stating that yes, you are indeed the ultimate teacher’s pet?”
She sticks out her tongue and crosses her eyes in a way that reminds me of the old Haven, the one who used to be my friend, but just as quickly it’s gone when she says, “And even more importantly, why would you even care? Because in case you haven’t noticed, the school rules are pretty much useless for people like us. We can do whatever the hell we want, whenever the hell we want, and no one can stop us. So not only do you need to lighten up and fugging unclench as usual—but you also need to put your sucking-up talents to much better use. Because if you’re determined to get on anyone’s good side, it should be mine.” She quirks her brow, and stares right into my eyes. “I mean, you’ve already ruined Damen—ever since he hooked up with you he’s like, destination boring town.” She takes a moment to grin at the remark. “Still, I am thinking of transferring into his fifth-period AP English class, and I’ll probably even sit next to him if I do. Does that bother you?”
I shrug, busying myself with my nails, even though they’re clean, smooth, unpolished, and so short there’s not much to see. But I won’t give in to her badgering, and I certainly won’t give her the satisfaction she seeks.
But it’s not like she cares, she’d much rather hear the sound of her own voice anyway, so she just forges ahead when she says, “I mean, on the one hand, he really has lost that exciting bad boy edge I loved so much—but on the other, I’m willing to bet he’s still got a good bit of it somewhere buried down deep. Really, really deep.” Her gaze gone sparkly and bright as it lands on me. “Because when something’s that ingrained, when something stretches all the way back through the centuries, well, it’s hard to shake it completely, if you know what I mean.”